This will be a short story. The idea was swimming in my head for awhile and I just needed to let it out. If any of you are following my TROUBLE story it will take me some time to update. I apologize. I'm trying to juggle these stories at the same time so that one will have to wait. Thank you for reading!

A/N: I don't own any of these characters.

Thirty minutes. I've got thirty minutes to finish my bolognese sauce. I exhaled apprehensively. I hope he likes it. I'd been slaving behind the stove for the last two hours for him. It would be a disappointment if he didn't approve of it. My dad, Ray, had asked me to prepare something special for his boss, Mr. Grey. The beautiful and sexy Christian Grey. I couldn't help but beam up every time I think of him. God...his seductive grey eyes, his chiseled jaw, his lips. I don't know how many times I'd daydreamed about those lips on mine. It gave me tingles just thinking about it.

I took another taste of the bolognese sauce that had been simmering on the stove for the past hour. "Mmm. Perfect," I praised elatedly, satisfied with the fruits of my labor. Setting the ladle down, I hasted upstairs into my practical cozy bedroom. It's everything a simple girl like me needed. A bed, a dresser, a mirror, plus a nightstand to set my alarm clock on. A dozen of inspirational posters of Paris and a couple of my favorite movie stars masked the wall and completed the room.

Rummaging through my closet, I found my favorite blue v-neck t-shirt hanging at the end of the closet rack. It was the only shirt that dipped low enough to show off my petite perky breasts. I yanked off my black tank that was splattered with the red sauce and slipped the blue one on. I pursed my lips as I eyed my boobs in the mirror, wondering if he'd prefer bigger jugs, and then grimaced at the sight. Sometimes I'd wish I was more well-endowed up here. Good thing I had my favorite bra on to do it's job.

I coated a little mascara over my freshly curled eyelashes and dusted a little blush over my cheeks. I sighed and slumped my shoulders. Why do I even bother? Most likely he'd make me blush just by smiling at me. With that in mind, I tossed the blush aside and decided to work on my hair. It was tied up in a messy bun. I tugged the band off, allowing my hair to flow down. Reaching for the closest brush I could get my fingers on, I swiftly comb through it. There. Problem fixed. It's wavy and slightly unkempt, but it'll suffice. I never liked messing with it anyway.

"Annie," a husky voice called from downstairs and startled me. I knew my dad was home and most likely my sexy crush was accompanying him. I quickly checked myself in the mirror one last time, perking up my breasts, before storming out.

After taking a deep breath, I made my way down the steep staircase, at a snail's pace, watching my every move and praying not to fall flat on my face. I'd never want to relive that moment again. Especially not in front of my future boyfriend. I giggled inwardly. You wish. Oh well, a girl could only dream.

Slowly descending, I started to see part of Christian as he paced around the landing, speaking exasperatedly into his cellphone. My heart accelerated once I caught the side of his face. He looked so breathtaking. He had on a sharp grey suit that accentuated his perfect physique. Underneath was a white dress shirt and a black tie. Why does everything have to look so good on him? I felt underdress as I glanced down at my blue v-neck and white jean shorts. Darnit! I should've thrown on the cocktail dress that Kate had loaned me just in case of emergency. At least that would've paired up well with his attire, but then Ray would be curious to why I would glam up for dinner at home on a Wednesday night. Forget it. I shrugged it off and continued my mission which was to not make a complete fool of myself.

He ended his call shortly and turned to face the staircase once he heard my footsteps. His eyes crawled up the stairs and his focus swept upward from my feet to my legs then to my hips and breasts and then stopped once he reached my eyes. I met his gaze, my gentle blue with his heated grey. Suddenly everything that was bothering him a moment ago just evaporated and his eyes softened before he drew a lovely contagious smile. So contagious it had me smiling from ear to ear like a kid in a candy store.

"Anastasia," he purred cordially, excited to see me. I loved the way he pronounced my name. It never sounded sexier.

"Christian," I returned calmly, suppressing my smile, which was impossible to do, but I managed before I successfully made it down to the landing. Without a word, I passed him and strolled my way into the kitchen to greet my dad. He prowled behind cautiously.

"Annie, aren't you eating?" Ray asked, sitting adjacent to me at the rectangular dining table. He had already scarfed down half of his penne with bolognese sauce while mine remained untouched.

"I had some earlier," I answered with my attention shifting back and forth from Ray to Christian, who was sitting across from me. Christian stabbed a piece of penne and savored it. I couldn't stop eying his lips, which I think he caught. Jeez, Ana. Can you be anymore more obvious?

"It's very delicious, Anastasia," he complimented honestly. He had such proper table etiquette. Not one spot of red sauce landed on his shirt.

"Thank you. It took me two hours to prepare it," I informed. And it was all worth it.

"It really shows." His gaze fell off my eyes and drifted down to my chest. My mission was successful. I couldn't help but blush at the feeling of him undressing me with his eyes. Inconspicuously, I nudged my arms closer to my body, hugging my chest closer together. He moved his eyes back up and his lips curled appreciatively. I squirmed in my seat and subconsciously bit my lip. Why does he always have that affect on me?

"Are you okay, Annie?" Ray asked with a frown, catching me in my most vulnerable state.

"Mm-hm," I nodded jerkily and dove straight into my pasta. I needed some distraction before I start drooling all over the table.

"Why are you so far away from me, Anastasia?" Christian spoke, snapping me back to reality. I'd been daydreaming about him with my eyes glued to the TV for the past fifteen minutes, on the rusty recliner chair, with my legs folded and tucked under my thighs.

"I thought you might want more space to yourself," I responded nervously, glancing over my shoulder. He looked stressed out, slouching on the six year-old brown leather couch my dad refuse to replace because of its sentimental value. His hair was disheveled; he must've been running his fingers through it like crazy.

"You think I asked your dad to get me wine so I could have more space to myself?" he ridiculed, narrowing his eyes at me. I'd never seen him so irritated; it was discomforting. "Come here," he ordered sternly and straightened up in his seat. I reluctantly complied and approached the couch timidly then settled down beside him. There was a foot of gap between us. "Closer." he bade. I scooted in, but I guessed it wasn't close enough because his arm circled my waist and he tugged me in even closer til our thighs touched, shooting electricity through my body. I swallowed a lump in my throat and my breathing heightened. I'd never sat this close to him before, and we'd never been alone before. Usually my dad was always in the room, chatting with him about work and I would just listen and pretend that I was interested in their conversation.

He clasped his hand over mine that was splayed over my bare thigh. My breath hitched instantaneously; it was the first time he'd ever touched me so sensually.

"I can't stop thinking about you. You've been clouding my mind lately. Everyday...every hour," he informed sullenly, gazing into my eyes. I couldn't distinguish if it was a good or a bad thing.

"I think about you every minute," I returned, hoping to cheer him up.

"Really?" he asked skeptically. I nodded a response; he was the only thing that occupied my mind these past several weeks. He tipped his head down dejectedly and sighed.

"What's wrong?" I asked. His expression was unnerving.

"This is wrong," he faced me again. His eyes were filled with distraught.

"It's not because of your wife is it?" I questioned. I knew he was married, but they were on the verge of splitting up. At least that's what Ray told me. I had to beg him profusely for that tidbit of information.

"Soon-to-be ex-wife," he clarified. His tone was palpable to how much he desperately wanted to divorce her. "But it's not her. It's you."

"What's wrong with me?" I asked frowning, offended by that statement. Suddenly I felt inadequate and not well-endowed for his specific needs.

"You're just a baby," he explained vaguely. What was that supposed to mean?

"I'm not a baby," I hissed, defending myself. "I'm eighteen and I graduated from high-school," I stated matter-of-factly. Yup, I'm an adult now. I could make my own decision; I could vote.

"That's the problem. You're eighteen...and I'm twenty-eight. There's a huge gap between us," he pointed out. If that was his main concern I knew what he was insinuating, but I didn't care.

"I don't see a problem," I voiced nonchalantly. "You like me, right?" I asked bluntly, but I already knew the answer. He desired me ever since he stepped foot in this house. I could tell when a guy shows interest in me and I knew he wanted me right off the bat.

"A lot," he responded as I expected.

"And I like you too. A lot a lot," I emphasized. But that was an understatement.

He chuckled in response. It was relieving to hear and I chuckled along.

"You always do have a way of cheering me up," he grinned. His mood changed instantly.

"I know you enjoy being around me," I noted. And I enjoyed having him close to proximity.

"Apparently." He brushed my hair back and over my shoulder to get a better view of me.

"I want to see you more often," I proposed. "It sucks to see you only once a week, and it's always for dinner." Which makes it six times within six weeks. It was torturous counting the days until he showed up.

"Ray wouldn't like it if I took you out," he muttered. I knew Ray would object to it. He'd always given me a hard time when it came to boys.

"He doesn't have to know." And what he doesn't know won't hurt him.

"I can't go behind his back, Anastasia," he said out of respect. Okay, then. No dating behind Ray's back. Next option.

"Then why don't I take you out instead. I'll ask him." I was seriously considering it.

"Ana, no," he shook his head. "He knows what I'm going through, and he's helping me cope with it. I can't have you do that."

"I'm sure it's just like any other feelings you have towards other boys." Don't start a lecture please.

"No. It's not. It's way beyond that," I raised my voice. He had no clue what I was dealing with. "I've gone out with a couple boys in high-school but I've never gotten this urge that I've been getting when I'm around you. And I really really like it."

"What kind of urge?" he furrowed his brow like he had no idea.

"You're an adult. You know what kind of urge I'm talking about," I chided. I couldn't believe I opened up to him about that. Honestly, I was comfortable with him enough to express my frustration.

"Look, Anastasia," he sighed. "I'm not in the right state of mind at this moment to do anything that I might regret later. I'm afraid I might hurt you. And I don't want to hurt you."

"I'm a strong girl. I can take a lot of punches. My dad raised me to be tough."

"You don't understand what I'm going through." He was wrong. I'd broken up a couple times before and healing took months, but eventually I got over those jerks.

"I'm sure everything will turn out fine. I promise it will turn out fine," I consoled him and clasped my hand over his forearm. A little touch was all he needed to lift his spirit. He gave me a tight smile and reached up to caress the side of my cheek with his thumb and then slicked some loose hair behind my ear. He gazed at me with his smouldering grey eyes which penetrated my longing blue. I'd never stared at him this close before. The color of his eyes darkened by the second. It was hypnotic, setting me in a trance. My mind lacked control as I leaned in, aiming for his lips. I parted mine, preparing myself for a taste that I'd been yearning for. He parted his, anticipating the same goal. My mouth salivated and my heart was beating out of my chest, and it was getting hotter and hotter as I inched in closer and closer when suddenly the doorknob wiggled.

I gasped frantically and hurled off the couch then repositioned myself back onto the recliner chair. Jeez, talking about bad timing. What a disappointment.

Ray shuffled in with a small paper bag nestled in his arm and shut the door. Christian looked just as disappointed as he sprang up and assisted Ray with the bag.

"I'm sorry Christian. They didn't carry the wine you requested so I got you the Pinot Noir they recommended."

"No problem, Ray. Thank you," Christian replied back as he freed the red wine out if it's bag and read the bottle label. "This will do," he tossed in an appreciative smile.

"Great. I'll grab the glasses," Ray said and strode toward the kitchen. Christian followed him halfway and then stopped to look at me. Our eyes locked. His were blazing, salaciously staring at me, hankering for me, but there was a sense of guilt hiding behind all that tension. I bit my lips uneasily. "Christian," Ray called from the kitchen. Instantly, Christian snapped out and marched off, and I turned my attention back to the TV and shifted in my chair as the familiar wetness between my thighs increased its flow. Stop it, Ana. Chill. Think cookies. Chocolate chip, oatmeal, snickerdoodle, peanut butter, coconut macaroon...

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